


Romance Is Boring

by requisite



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:17:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/requisite/pseuds/requisite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once again, he'd been caught up in Trevor's crap. How he had let this happen was beyond him. He sighed as he walked into Trevor's dilapidated home, resigning himself to spending the next little while here, until he could figure out what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romance Is Boring

**Author's Note:**

> We are two ships that pass in the night  
> You and I, we are nothing alike  
> I am a pleasure cruise, you are gone out to trawl  
> Return nets empty, nothing at all 
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings: Slight spoilers for the game. Drunk sex. 
> 
> Part PWP, part fluff, part angst.
> 
> This is my first time publishing fic, ever, and I have very little practice writing so please be gentle. Comments and concrit are greatly appreciated! If someone wants to look over the formatting that would be great, I have no clue how to do it. Unbetaed.
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters and Grand Theft Auto belong to Rockstar. No profit is being made.

Once again, he'd been caught up in Trevor's crap. How he had let this happen was beyond him. He sighed as he walked into Trevor's dilapidated home, resigning himself to spending the next little while here, until he could figure out what to do.

Trevor, on the other hand, was positively delighted. Patricia didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry to go back home. Her kidnapper’s intentions weren't too malicious, in her eyes at least.

His trailer was about as glamorous as he expected it to be. He looked around, trying to assess where he would be able to sleep tonight. As though he was reading his mind, Trevor spoke.

"Okay, Mikey, you take the couch, me and Patricia are going to share the bed," Trevor said, pouring them each a drink.

"Like hell you are," he said. He quickly thought of the other possible combinations. "Patricia, you, uh, sleep on the couch. Trevor, we'll sleep in your room."

"Oh, I like where this is going," Trevor said, grinning.

"It's not going anywhere," he said, his voice flat. He took his drink from Trevor and downed it in one shot.

"Well, in that case you can take my bed, I'm going to stay up and make sure no one shows up. Sometimes Ron gets distracted by the UFOs," he said, guiding Patricia, who was still tied up, to the sofa.

"If you stay up and watch then I need to stay up and watch you," Michael said, sounding exasperated.

"For God's sake, Michael, I'm not going to do anything."

"Alright. Whatever. I'm going to sleep,' he said, going to Trevor’s room.

"You stay right there okay, Patricia? I need to get you a blanket,"

Before Michael could even get in the room, Trevor pushed past him and grabbed the blanket from his bed, giving it to Patricia and wishing her a good night.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Trevor said.

“I didn’t know you bathed,” Michael replied from the bedroom, trying to determine if the bed was safe enough to sleep in.

“Shut up, Michael. There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” he said, walking to the bathroom and turning on the water.

 

 

Michael took off his clothes and got into Trevor's bed, hoping that he wouldn’t get a disease from sleeping in it. He would take the floor but he desperately needed some sleep. He reached over to turn on the lamp and noticed something sticking out from under the bed. It was a small box, and curiosity got the best of him. He could still hear the shower running so he grabbed it, worrying for a moment that he might regret opening it.

The box was filled with mementos; pictures of him and Trevor when they were younger, of his kids with Trevor, smiles as big as they could go. Things he'd forgotten even existed, times that he couldn't even remember had happened until now. There were a few other items he didn't recognize, they looked like they were even older than the ones he was familiar with, and suddenly he felt like shit.

Trevor was ill. He had been for a long time, even before they met. He had never really given that much thought to what his deal with the FIB would do to him. He had to get out back then. For his kids, for Amanda, for himself. But he’d left an already damaged man even more broken. He had assumed Trevor had died and kept on with his new life, and somehow that was comforting enough, but he hadn’t. The only things that perished back then were Brad, and Trevor's last shred of sanity.

He heard the spray of water stop, quickly closing the box and stashing it back under the bed. The bathroom was just a few steps away and he heard Trevor walk into his bedroom.

"Hey, Mike,” he said, a ratty towel wrapped around his waist. Michael nodded in acknowledgment.

As he stepped closer to the bed, Michael noticed the scars on Trevor’s body, some of them he remembered having stitched up and disinfected with vodka when they were young. Others had grimmer memories attached to them. He also noticed the scattered red marks, undoubtedly from the meth.

"When's the last time you smoked, Trev? Are you going to manage to sleep?" he asked him.

"Oh yeah. If not I'll just lay here and masturbate until the sun comes up," he said, shrugging.

Michael just shook his head and laughed. "Alright then," he said. "Man, I could use something to help me get to sleep." he added, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Trevor's antics, just Trevor's presence in general, had him a little on edge.

"Hold on I'll get some more booze," Trevor answered excitedly, getting up and going to the kitchen.

 

 

“Patricia’s asleep,” Trevor said, coming back into the room with a bottle in his hand.

“She’s the most composed kidnapping victim I’ve ever seen,” Michael said.

“Yeah, well when you have to live with an impotent asswipe like her husband I bet even this feels like a vacation.”

“Sure,” Michael conceded, taking a generous gulp from the bottle of liquor. "Remember that time we were robbing that corner store and the hostage we took started freaking the fuck out, hyperventilating and shit? He needed to take a note from Patricia’s book. We’re not all bad, right?”

Trevor laughs out loud."Yeah, man. I felt a bit sorry for that guy,” he said. “Hold on, I'm shutting the door, I don’t want to wake her up."

He looked at Trevor from behind while he got up, and he was either completely losing it or he hadn't gotten laid in way too long because Trevor's body made him feel something a bit like arousal. He was broad and masculine, but there was something about the contours of his body, his long toned legs, that made Michael think he should really question his sanity at this point.

Trevor walked back to the bed, sitting down next to Michael. He smelled like cheap bar soap, which was actually a nice change.

"This reminds me of old times, Mikey," he said, taking another hit from the bottle before lying down and facing Michael. "Just you, me, and some cheap liquor,"

Michael smiled. "Yeah," he said. "Right down to sharing a bed."

He knew that they were both thinking the same thing in that moment; of times when they were young and lonely and horny, when they had an attraction they couldn't really deny even if they tried. They never talked about it the morning after; it was easy enough to pretend it hadn't happened and go on with their lives, or to blame it on the alcohol. Michael swore up and down he still truly loved women, and Trevor did too, even if he wasn't being completely honest with himself.

The room went quiet, the chirp of crickets the only sound that could be heard. It had been a while since Michael had heard it so clearly since living in the city. He spoke again, breaking the silence. "Only now, you have less hair," he said, smiling a bit stupidly from the liquor.

"And you're even fatter," Trevor said, reaching forward to slowly trail his hand over Michael's chest.

"Hey, hey, what are you doing?" Michael said, laughing nervously when Trevor's fingers tickled him, but well aware of the way he was touching him.

"Nothing we haven't done before, Mikey," he said, smirking, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Just... shut up and enjoy it, okay?"

"I..." Michael could feel the alcohol hitting him, his mind hazy and his body warm. "That was a long time ago, Trevor."

"Just like old times then. We both need this," he said, sounding almost desperate, bringing his hand down over Michael’s clothed cock, rubbing it through the fabric of his boxers.

"Trev, this is nuts," he said, but he couldn’t seem to say ‘no’. He realized he didn’t really want to.

Trevor let go and moved away from him. Michael figured he had changed his mind, but soon the lights were out and he felt his hand right back on him, stroking him to hardness.

“Just pretend...Pretend it's not me if that makes you feel better," he said, his voice laced with a hollow sadness.

“This thing still work, Michael?” he asked, now slipping his hand under the elastic waistband of his underwear.

“You wanna find out?” Michael replied, as a threat, quickly realizing that Trevor was going to take it as an offer.

He reached over to his nightstand again, fishing around the drawer until he pulled out a condom and an almost empty bottle of lubricant.

"I didn't take you for the safe sex type," Michael said, slurring slightly.

"Yeah, well... I'm full of surprises, aren’t I? Just put it on, would you," he said.

"Hey, if you think I'm- "

"On yourself, Michael," he interrupted. "You should be flattered... No one has done this since you."

Michael hesitated for a moment. He couldn't believe he was considering this, but he was already drunk and the idea of sex and the bittersweet taste of nostalgia took over his senses completely.

"Okay," he fumbled with the wrapper. "Okay," he repeated. He had pushed those memories as far back as they could go, but scenes of him and Trevor in bed flooded back into his mind.

 

 

_They’re 23, face to face in a cheap motel bed._

_"You want this right, Trev?" Michael whispers._

_"Yeah, I do." he says. His voice is shaking a bit, but he's never been surer about something in his life._

 

 

Trevor rolled over onto his stomach, feeling it do flip flops in anticipation. He would never forget those times with Michael, but he’d been so deluded back then. He’d let himself get caught up in something he should have known would always be a fantasy.

He wanted to hate Michael for what he’d done, but he only found himself wanting to be with him as often as he could again. He’d betrayed his trust, abandoned him, and yet he was just happy to have him back, despite it all.

Michael flipped open the lubricant bottle, pouring some onto his cock, the realization that it was completely hard sobering him a little bit.

This was crazy, he knew it was, but Amanda didn’t want to sleep with him anymore, and hookers or strippers only did it on account of getting paid. Trevor wanted it. That much he could tell. He lined himself up, and pushed in slowly.

"Fuck," he said. It felt fucking good. He wondered about Trevor. "You okay?"

Trevor inhaled deeply. "I've felt worse, just go," he said. He suddenly wasn't sure this was actually happening. He was having a hard time making sense of reality, a strange blur of present and past.

Michael was his best friend.

Michael was dead.

Michael was fucking him like it was 1989 again.

It was quiet and fast. Trevor could feel the alcohol wearing off slightly, and he wished he was drunker. He turned his head to the side, noticing Michael’s hand on the mattress. The ring on his left finger taunted him as it glimmered in the dim light of the room. He almost wanted to push him off all of a sudden, but it felt so, so good.

"Ugh," he groaned as Michael quickened his pace. Trevor lifted his hips up, just enough so that he could reach under himself and jack himself off while Michael fucked him, the steady gliding of his cock inside him driving him crazy. He was so fucking close.

Michael kept thrusting steadily, his hands sliding over Trevor’s back until they reached his hips.

“I’m gonna come, fuck,” he said, shoving his face into the pillow to muffle his moans. He wasn’t sure who he was trying to hide them from; Michael or himself. His legs shook under him as he did, his muscles tightening and relaxing at once.

He hadn't come that hard in as long as he could remember.

“Shit, I’m close,” Michael mumbled, the sounds of Trevor’s silenced orgasm tipping him over the edge and he went as hard as he could, finally coming inside. He gave a few last shaky thrusts, gripping Trevor’s waist tightly and moaning above him as he finished.

"Oh fuck," Michael sighed, falling forward to catch his breath. He pulled out slowly, looking down at Trevor who still had his face buried in his pillow. "That was good...Damn," he said, taking off the condom and throwing it somewhere. He was too proud to admit that it was one of the best fucks he'd had in years.

"Trevor?” he asked. He rolled over on his side of the bed, lying down on his back to face the ceiling. “You alright?"

"Yeah," he said, sniffling. He couldn’t muster the energy to be witty with Michael right now. Fucking him had reminded him of things he’d tried to push back for so long and the loneliness was eating away at him again. "It's just the...the drugs, or the alcohol sometimes it messes with my head, y'know?" It was a lie.

"Oh...yeah," Michael said. He got closer to Trevor, wrapping his arm around him. He didn't resist, he even seemed to relax in Michael's embrace. It was Trevor, of all people, but it felt kind of good for someone to just let themselves be held like this. It had been so long since his wife had wanted anything to do with intimacy.

"Just try to get some sleep. In the morning we can pretend this never happened. We're good at that, remember?"

"Yeah," he said, feeling sleepy for the first time in days, but he wasn't good at it at all.

 


End file.
